Ugly
by siriuslives394
Summary: ‘He knew a man was dead because of him, and that because he was dead, many others would die.’ Malfoy contemplates the task set before him. 6th year. Song fic.


A/N: This takes place 6th year.

**Ugly**

Draco Malfoy knew he was an ass. It was something he took pride in – irritating Potter, Weasel and Granger. Tormenting Longbottom. Making life generally unpleasant for Gryffindors.

He wasn't sure if this was taking it too far.

_Are you ugly?  
A liar like me?  
A user, a lost soul?  
Someone you don't know  
Money it's no cure  
A Sickness so pure  
Are you like me?  
Are you ugly?_

Death Eaters were something Malfoy had always been aware of, the same way good children are aware of the police, or the headmaster. A threatening presence they knew was there, but didn't directly impact their lives.

That had changed.

Death Eaters had begun to take an unpleasantly main role in Malfoy's life ever since the return of the Dark Lord. He knew it was expected of him to join them. His father was, after all, Lucius Malfoy. His father took pleasure in other's pain. Malfoy supposed he did too – to a degree. He enjoyed seeing people he disliked upset. He enjoyed it when Hagrid was miserable about his Hippogriff's imminent demise.

That was what he enjoyed.

He did not enjoy killing. Blood. Mutilation.

It didn't suit him.

But how could he get out of it?

_We are dirt, we are alone  
You know we're far from sober!  
We are fake, we are afraid  
You know it's far from over  
We are dirt we are alone  
You know we're far from sober!  
Look closer, are you like me?  
Are you ugly?_

He returned to Hogwarts his – although he was loath to admit it – home for the better part of six years.

Malfoy felt dirty.

When he was thinking about it, his task, he felt good. He felt powerful. He knew that all the power was on him. He knew that whatever he did, people would be severely impacted.

He could cause pain.

But did he want to cause that much pain? He was an ass. Not a murderer.

Why did everyone want to turn him into a murderer? At sixteen, you'd think they would be more concerned that he should stay away from the ladies – not that he would kill the greatest wizard of their time. A fool. But a kindly one who never saw the worst in Draco, even when he himself did.

_Turn a blind eye  
Why do I deny?  
Medicate me  
So I die Happy  
A strain of cancer  
Chokes the answers  
Are you like me?  
A liar like me?_

His sixth year was full of pain and emotional turmoil. Oddly enough, he found the most relief hiding out in the bathroom of a dead girl.

His 'Lord's' first kill, as a matter of fact.

Malfoy was distressed. To be or not to be? To kill or not to kill?

If he chose not to kill, he would be indirectly killing his mother. He knew this. He knew what the Dark Lord was capable of when disappointed.

What did one woman mean to a man that unfeeling?

In the end, who was worth more to Malfoy? His mother or Dumbledore? The man was old after all… certainly, his time was almost up? Did that justify Malfoy ending his life? He had lived a long, full life, his mother had not.

Malfoy hesitated. He knew what the Dark Lord was now. Had he ever gone through the same issues as he was now? Had he sat alone, contemplating whether to be a murderer or not? Or was he born inhuman?

Draco didn't want to become what _he _was. Didn't want to have to do what he's done.

Could it be avoided? Was he alone in his plight?

_We are dirt, we are alone  
You know we're far from sober!  
We are fake, we are afraid  
You know it's far from over  
We are dirt we are alone  
You know we're far from sober!  
Look closer, are you like me?  
Are you ugly?_

Malfoy still had his doubts. He wasn't sure whether to go along with the plan, or to go to Dumbledore and plead his case. Would the wizard have sympathy?

He laughed quietly to himself. Why would he? He was the son of a Death Eater – an enemy. He had been assigned to kill the old man, for heaven's sake.

But still… Malfoy was hesitant. What if he _would_ help him? Him and his mother?

Could he avoid the fate that was planned for him? That which was expected of him?

Did he have to do it? He had already made the arrangements for his 'comrades' to enter his school – the only place he ever felt somewhat safe from the expectations over his head.

He was bringing those who meant his classmates harm into his sanctuary. Was that forgivable? No.

But he had to do it. After, he could take his mother and flee. Surely that would work.

_I don't care, you don't care  
I'm bitter, you're angry.  
You don't care, I don't care  
You love you, just like me  
I blame you, you blame me  
I'm bitter, you're angry.  
You don't care, I don't care  
You love you, like me_

Malfoy was anxious. Dumbledore and Potter were gone. He had asked around – they were gone. Tonight was _the _night. Dumbledore needed to be here! What would happen if he weren't? If he _failed_?

That possibility never occurred to Draco. He only thought of backing out or completing his task. He never thought of what would happen should he _fail_.

He was sixteen… could they really expect a sixteen year old wizard to defeat Dumbledore? Someone who even the Dark Lord himself feared. Maybe this was a test… just to see if Malfoy had the guts to try.

Maybe he wouldn't be a killer.

_We are dirt, we are alone  
You know we're far from sober!  
We are fake, we are afraid  
You know it's far from over  
We are dirt we are alone  
You know we're far from sober!  
Look closer, are you like me?  
Are you ugly?_

He knew Dumbledore was wrong.

There, lying at his feet, weak and helpless, he would say anything to save his life. He was human too, after all.

The brief flashes of power came back to Malfoy. He liked power; it was an addictive feeling. It was going to his head, he knew.

Having Dumbledore – the omnipotent headmaster of Hogwarts, the infallible, the powerful – lying before him… well, it made him feel _good. _For a brief while.

Then he remembered the severity of the situation. This man was offering him another way out, a way that he thought had been closed to him due to his reputation, his parentage.

Should he take it?

_Are you Ugly?_

He didn't.

But he didn't kill either. He brought around the death; he knew that, by letting Death Eaters into the school. But he didn't kill directly. For some reason this made Malfoy feel cleaner – better.

He could hear Potter's enraged shouts behind him and Snape. They were fleeing, job completed.

He knew a man was dead because of him, and that because he was dead, many others would die.

This was on his conscience.

_Are you Ugly?_

This was on his soul.

_Are you Ugly?_

He was ugly.

A/N: I was listening to this song on like… repeat, and I decided that it accurately reflected this part of the books. The song is Ugly by the Exies. Very good, I would suggest looking it up. :D


End file.
